Hans and Elsa - Fairytales
by Aren Knightley
Summary: There were quests, labors, hardships, darkness, monsters, demons, villains, trolls, nightmares, dreams and magic; but where they could be was a sliver of hope, a chance for love and a potential for happy endings.
1. Cinderella

Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney.

Cinderella version: _Aschenputtel by the Grimm Brothers_

* * *

**Cinderella **

_**"Shine upon darkness, the light of change."**_

As he neared the entrance to the ballroom, he donned on his black mask, it was covered with golden, intricate designs. He took a deep breath, taking in the familiar yet foreign scene around him. He flexed his gloved fingers, no longer used to the sensation. Suddenly, he felt too _awkward_ to be there with the other members of royalty and nobility. It _didn't_ feel right, somehow. His royal garments made him feel ill-at-ease—_was it always this stiff and uncomfortable?_

He felt differently now. What he felt in him wasn't the shame and uselessness some of his brothers had instilled in his head. It wasn't that he wanted to disappear because he felt like he didn't belong there, that he wasn't royalty like they were. What he felt now was entirely different. What he felt was distaste. It was cumbersome to be surrounded by people that you have to be pretentious around with—not that he didn't have his own share of pretenses. He was despicable for it, actually.

He knew that the person he was five years ago would never even imagine himself standing at the entrance to a ballroom, wishing himself to be in a commoner's clothes, working in the fields, riding his horse, or swimming in the lake. The person he _was_ would rather be king.

_This is what five years of living as a commoner and working as a laborer does to you._

_But remember, you're a prince now. _

_A prince _again.

He shook himself awake, willing himself to focus as his green eyes scanned the ballroom. Everything was boring and black and white, until his eyes finally landed on her. She may have been wearing a mask but it wasn't very difficult to recognize her. To him, she stood out like a goddess who had decided to grace the mortals a chance to look upon her beauty and be showered with her kindness—was he always this poetic about her?

Of course _not_. He was never poetic about anything because he was too busy snatching some monarch's throne; _hers_ particularly. If he were going to be poetic about her then, and had he _succeeded_, he would most likely be saying false flattery while delivering her eulogy.

Talking about her beauty was easily _not_ a lie, and he knew she was kind as she was gracious. He wouldn't be saying false flattery, just insincere ones because he wouldn't mean any of them and the tears would all just be an act.

_Had I succeeded..._

He shuddered involuntarily at the thought, at the sheer possibility of his victory. He got close, and he knew it. In all his bitterness he thought over how he _could _have succeeded and he knew how _but_...

_I would have been a murderer._

He tried to remember why he lacked remorse the first few months of the aftermath. Why couldn't he bring himself to feel guilt or regret? Or why he never questioned the way he had stooped so low.

He believed he was a changed man, but that didn't mean he was completely free from his demons. They were still there, lingering and hiding in the shadows. Perhaps that was the reason why he was drawn to her. Her demons weren't so completely different from his. He saw it in her eyes, in the way she moved; he heard it in the way she talked, in the way she cried. Everybody had their demons, but only few ever find the light to vanquish them. _She_ had found that light, and he wanted to find his. He felt something when he was around her. He felt like he could _hope_.

Her hair was fixed in a lose braid, cascading down her left shoulder. Her magnificent dress shimmered with the perfect combination of blue and silver. She looked the same as she did the last time he had seen her five years ago, he could tell despite her mask, although she looked more radiant now, happier, livelier and still as graceful as ever. For a while he didn't mind the jostling and the way people were staring at him as he watched her, transfixed, but he didn't want to draw too much attention to himself so he started walking towards her, weaving through the crowd as quickly as he could.

His stride was purposeful, but heavier, lacking the grace it had once possessed. He almost turned away when he saw a man, one he didn't recognize, engaging a conversation with her. He seemed dashing _enough,_ but she didn't seem to be enjoying his company, he saw her shoot her sister desperate look but her sister had already left her, smiling and shrugging innocently with her hand placed at the crook of her husband's arm. He saw that despite her mask, she was trying hard to be courteous, her smile was forced and her posture was stiff, it hadn't been longer than a few minutes but she already seemed like she was bored out of her wits.

_He should just charm her with a sweet smile, or compliment her._

Not that complimenting her would do anything other than getting a polite reply and smile from her, assuming that the four other men who had approached her, and had left after she bowed slightly and smiled at them, were in that position. She was much too _perfect_ anyway to be able to describe with one simple compliment, one would need an ode with a thousand verses to be able to do so. He frowned, _An ode with a thousand verses?_ He shook his head. Had he been spending too much time with the local bard, or was she just that radiant that he got steered in that line of thought?

_At least it's not a eulogy, but an ode_. He almost smirked.

Whatever the reason may be, he decided, it was time to save her from _Lord Boredom. _He started walking again, and quickening his pace, and when he reached her and was close enough, he rudely cut off the gentleman talking to her by saying, "I believe you promised me a dance, milady."

Her eyes widened, her head turned to look at him, bowing slightly there with his hand extended towards her. He hoped that she wouldn't recognize him, her sister didn't seem to have recognized him when they met earlier. He had more muscle in his frame than he used to, his voice sounded a touch huskier, he sported a few weeks' worth of stubble across his jaw and chin, reaching his ever present sideburns, and there was a scar that was visible coming from beneath his mask, extending from beneath his left eye, to is left cheek, shying a few centimeters away from his earlobe.

She managed not to stutter when she replied, "I'm afraid I don't da—"

Lacking the social grace to stop himself from reaching out to take her hand, pull her one step closer to him, and whisper in her ear in the most ungentlemanly manner, he said, "It's that, or you suffer in _Lord Boredom's_ company."

The nickname managed to draw out a giggle from her, making him smile as he pulled away. She turned to the gentleman talking to her and said, "I'm afraid I did promise a dance with this gentleman, Lord Greystoke," _Oh, so that's he's name._ "It was a pleasure hearing about the good well-being of Hunter and Knight."

Lord Greystoke bowed stiffly, glaring at the man who stole away his beautiful company before smiling and saying, "The pleasure was all mine, Queen Elsa," he took her hand and kissed her gloved knuckles before walking, or rather storming away.

"Hunter and Knight?" he mused loudly, as he led her to the dance floor. "Odd names. His brothers?"

"His dogs," she clarified, clearing her throat.

"He discussed his dogs with you?" he asked incredulously as he stopped walking, making her bump gently into him.

She took two steps backwards before replying, "Yes, well the Englishmen are rather obsessed with their dogs."

"I'm assuming there were other Englishmen who told you about their dogs," a small, unnoticeable smirk formed on his lips as they continued walking.

There was pause, then she grimaced, "Yes."

"And here I thought they'd be commenting on your _radiant beauty_," he managed to make the last two words sound a touch sarcastic, although he was being completely _honest_. He also managed not to grimace because the compliment sounded much too over the top. "But you _are_ beautiful," he amended quietly. _Radiant beauty? Can you be any more over the top?_

Elsa felt her cheek's heat up for a moment, finding his honest and rather gruff nature a bit more appealing than the other's more flowery words and overly graceful movement— and if she had to be perfectly honest, she would say that without enough effort they'd be mistaken as women— clearing her throat she replied, "Thank you..." she trailed off, this time she was the one who stopped walking, making him stop as well because he was still holding her hand. "I'm afraid I never caught your name."

He looked at her with playful grin, "That's because I never told you," he managed not to groan, mentally slapping himself for sounding too familiar and rude, so he added, "Er, your majesty." _You are definitely, and most horrifyingly out of practice._

Elsa waved her other hand dismissively, "You may call me Elsa."

His grin became wider, "Of course."

"Your name, though, would you tell me what it is?" she asked again, curious about this man who seemed quite familiar. He was like Kristoff, Anna's consort, a bit boorish but still managing to be gentlemanly, and this man also reminded her greatly about a certain Prince Hans, with his green eyes and auburn hair— he even had those sideburns, although lacking the prince's grace and _her_ obvious dislike.

Although his hair was longer, she had noticed it when they were walking, it was tied behind him by a blue ribbon and he also had stubble across his face—and that scar, she couldn't help but be _fascinated_ by his scar.

"No," there was a playful smile on his face.

She frowned at him, but not really minding his rudeness, "No?"

"What's the point of wearing mask if you knew whose face was behind it? It _is_ a masquerade, your majesty," then he cleared his throat. "_Elsa._"

When Elsa heard him say her name, her eyes widened a bit slightly, "Hans?"

She saw him frown behind his mask, looking on either sides of him before looking back at her, "Pardon?"

"Sorry," her cheeks reddened as she shook her head. "I just thought your voice sounded familiar when you said my name."

There was that boyish half smile again, "Hans, huh? A suitor?"

"Heavens, no," she scoffed in a very unladylike manner that would make Anna proud if she heard her.

"And what, pray tell, did the fellow do to be disliked by the most beautiful woman in this room?" he asked her, there was a teasing smile on his face. He wanted to smirk but it felt like too much of an effort.

They were just standing there, in the sea of people who were talking as well, just a few more steps from the dance floor.

Elsa smiled at his compliment, before replying, "Shall we say that he did something terrible?"

"Unforgivable?" he asked curiously, he looked like puppy while asking that, Elsa thought bemusedly.

"Perhaps," she nodded. "My sister thinks so."

"And you?"

"You ask too many questions," she said, returning a small teasing smile of her own.

He chuckled, "I'm a very curious person," he was dimly aware that he was still holding her hand. "Do you think he's unforgivable, though?"

"I suppose, but I can't help but want to thank him," a small frown that graced her features. "I think he was somehow a key to my being closer with my sister."

"That's a good thing then," he grinned at her. "I'm sure he isn't as bad as I am though."

"Oh?" now, Elsa was more curious.

"My brother, he is the current king of our kingdom—"

"So you're a prince," Elsa couldn't help but comment, then smiling sheepishly and blushing slightly she said. "I'm sorry, please, continue."

He nodded, smiling back, "He sent me to live in town and work as a laborer for five years, it was his official decree that I be treated like a commoner and not a prince.

"It was a life changing experience, to say the least, I learned many things, and to be perfectly honest, I would rather be at the stables or in the fields than be in here," then he grinned at her. "Only your presence is making my experience here more tolerable."

Elsa was blushing a lot, she didn't like it but she didn't mind it either, "What did you do?"

"I would tell you, but it would defeat my purpose for anonymity," he winked at her. "And it would probably make you hate me, _Elsa._"

_There it is again!_ The thought fleeted through Elsa's mind, _the familiar way he says my name,_ "Now, I'm even more curious about you, prince."

He lowered his eyes slightly, and she could see a small, mischievous smile forming on his lips, "Perhaps a dance will convince me to tell you my story?"

One dance wouldn't hurt, right? It was only one dance after all, and Elsa didn't find any harm in just one dance. The moment they reached the dance floor, the music turned slow, the perfect, almost romantic combination of the harp, the violin and the piano. Elsa realized for the first time that she never let go of his hand when all he did was lift it up, and guide her other hand to his shoulder before his hand went down to her waist. Both of them thought they lacked grace, but they also failed to notice that most people had stopped dancing because they were awestruck by the two who danced, and glided through the dance floor as though they were flying.

They made a wonderful couple, and some found it curious and wondered if they were _actually_ a couple. They fitted together like night and day, the perfect balance, neither seemed to overpower the other in their presence. Her, in her silvery blue dress, and him, in his black and navy-blue royal garments.

"_Elsa,_" he had whispered her name with so much reverence it almost made her heart flutter, in that moment, she didn't care if it sounded as though it were her former enemy was saying her name. She didn't think she'd mind if it were him at all. "You truly are beautiful, and magnificent— it's a pity that we might never see each other again after this night."

This made Elsa frown, unable to stop herself, her hand went up to his cheek her finger trailed above his scar before her hand rested on her cheek, his eyes closed, and he tilted his head to her hand. Softly whispering as the music slowly died down, and their own dancing slowed, she said "Tell me who you are."

It was a plea, a soft command that he could no longer refuse. He had nothing left to lose; all he had was his title, nothing more. Even though he regained his title, he'd still have to work to earn his living; part of his punishment came in the form of his inheritance, little as it already were for a prince, being distributed to his brothers, much to their pleasure and his disdain.

"Follow me to the balcony," he said in a soft tone, he pulled at her hand slowly, never letting it go.

The balcony was empty, thank the gods, and it was far away from where the people were. Elsa's hands went to the rail, her fingers trailed over to the marble, purposely creating intricate ice patterns there despite her gloves.

"Arendelle has always had the most beautiful night sky I've ever seen," came his voice which roused her from her reverie. His voice was very soft, almost as if he was afraid that he'd disturb the peace if he raised his voice louder. "I've slept under the stars more times than I could count, even before my five years of punishment, but I've never seen the night sky look more beautiful than it does here," then his green eyes looked at her with an intensity that seemed to pierce through her soul. "Or perhaps it's because the stars shine brighter in your presence, _Elsa._"

This time Elsa broke free from his hold, instantly wishing for the warmth that was once there when he held her, and reached out with both her hands to remove his mask.

He took both her hands in his, shaking his head slowly, "No, not yet," he put down her hand gently. "It's not yet time."

He held her hands firmly in his, his thumb running across the top of her hand, making small circular movement on it that made Elsa shiver a bit.

"Have you heard of the mirror that distorted the hearts of everyone who looked into it?" he asked her, soulful green eyes piercing the depths of her heart as she nodded mutely.

"My face has a similar curse, one gaze upon it without my mask and you will see nothing but the vilest in it."

Her hand broke free again, landing on his cheek, her thumb tracing his scar, "Is it because of this?"

"No," he shook his head, a sad smile graced upon his lips. "I hold this scar as my medal of honor, a scar in which some people believe I have managed to redeem myself for my past."

"Tell me its story," Elsa commanded gently, as her thumb traced it one more time.

"In the winter, the wolves come down from the mountains and move into the forest closer to town. Ivan, a boy of six, the only son of the man I worked for, ventured into the forest, getting past through one of the broken fences that blocked the way to the forest.

"It wasn't my intention to save him, cruel as it sounds, but it wasn't my intention to be the first to find him either, I thought his father or some other man would, but I found him first.

"Hearing the hopelessness and abandoned plea in his voice spurred a protective feeling in me, it reminded me greatly when some of my some older brothers would pick on me and no one would come to my help, even after I've sported one black eye or a bloody nose.

"I managed to get to him before the wolves attacked him, but not without a price, I got these scars, and almost died when I got bitten," he released her hand and removed the glove on his right hand, revealing another horrible scar there. Elsa gasped softly.

"Ivan became like the little brother I never had, he grew very close and very attached to me, he was young but he was adamant about taking care of me when I went down with a horrible fever after the night I saved him.

"I lived with their family for five years, and I changed my ways for the sake of being a good example to Ivan, and redeeming myself in the eyes of my family and our people.

"As for Ivan, I cared for him and looked after him in the way my brothers didn't, or lacked in doing.

"If I hadn't lost my inheritance, I would have rather given it to them than have it split between my brothers, I owe Ivan and his family for their kindness."

His eyes bore into hers with so much guilt and sorrow that it almost stole her breath away, the intensity of his pain made her heart melt completely, feeling as though his pain was hers. She felt it as butterflies in her stomach and in the way her chest constricted when she breathe. Elsa was kind and merciful, but she was no saint. In her sea of flaws, there was one she wasn't particularly proud of, and that was her ability to lie, to create a convincing mask, and build impenetrable walls around her— walls that she desperately wanted to be torn down.

Those flaws allowed her the ability to see past a person's mask, five years ago she wasn't as perceptive, but Elsa's ability to perceive sincerity had only become greater after dealing with different people both royal, and not— she trusted in that ability, even if it meant admitting that she perceived sincerity from her _former_ enemy.

She reached for his mask again, and this time he didn't stop her, "It's you, isn't it?" even without the mask being completely removed, the way his head moved down as though he were ashamed was confirmation enough. Not that she needed any confirmation.

"Hans," she whispered softly, her voice would have been emotionless if it weren't for the gasp that escaped her lips. But of course it was Hans, who else could it have been?

Hans was right, when she removed his mask, and saw his face completely for the first time in—no, not forever, though it could have been—five years, she saw only the vilest. Seeing him again after five long years reawakened bad memories from the past she has long since put behind her.

But Elsa chose to focus on his scar, the one he called "_symbol_ of his _redemption._" And, gently forcing him to lift his head, for his eyes meet hers, "Hans, look at me," Elsa focused on the remorse and sorrow in his green eyes.

Very carefully, as though he feared her departure, Hans reached out and removed Elsa's mask. Five years had done nothing to taint the beauty of the queen, if anything, she was more beautiful than he originally remembered. There was a rueful smile on his face, when he heard the chimes of the clock inside the palace, he put back the glove one his right hand again. "It's time for you to go back inside, Elsa. Arendelle's queen needs to be in there when it's time for everyone's identities to be revealed. I have no purpose to be there because you already know who I am, and tonight, you are the only one that matters who needs to know."

"Hans, wait—"

"Shh," Hans, forgetting his manners and completely casting off his grace, kissed Elsa, it was one kiss on her lips, chaste in a way that it's passion was held back, it was quick and it's only purpose was to silence her and to satisfy the ache in his chest, but still that moment that may as well have lasted an eternity. "You cannot say another word, Elsa, or I fear I'll lose the ability to walk away."

There was a gentleness in his smile, genuine for all it was worth, "I'm afraid the clock has struck midnight, and it's time for me to leave. I cannot overstay my welcome, lest the magic between our meeting be lost.

"I don't have any golden shoe to leave for you, sadly, but keep my mask. Remember," he said, cupping her face in his gloved hands. "Remember that I am the _only_ person capable of making those patterns," his eyes bore into hers, begging her to understand. "And only your _ice_ is capable of confirming that.

"This mask will serve a different purpose should you seek me out. That mask will be your way to find me. So I will leave it with you."

Hans quickly took her mask and put it on her, making sure that it wouldn't fall, then he stepped back, "Tell Anna, and her consort, Kristoff, to accompany you to the Southern Isles. I will be there, and I will wait for you. I will know that I've been forgiven when you find me.

"It will be difficult to find me, as it should be. You might never try to come find me, but if waiting is my punishment, I'll accept.

"I don't deserve anything more, and you shouldn't have to go great lengths for me. Merely coming to the Southern Isles, and even your graciousness right now should be enough.

"But I'm not a simple man, and I prefer a little... fun," a small smirk touched his lips before eventually dissolving into a smile.

Hans covered her eyes with his hands, and involuntarily Elsa closed her eyes, she felt a gentle and warm, which was unusual in the winter, wind blow across her face. When she opened her eyes, Hans was gone and she could only manage a sigh, his mask was still in her hands.

She went back inside, and Anna came bounding towards her, "So, where's _Prince Hottie_?"

Elsa raised an eyebrow, but not really commenting on her sister's choice of adjective, "I'm afraid he already left."

"Left you his mask though," Kristoff commented, coming from behind Elsa.

Elsa held it up, "Ah, yes," she was still a bit speechless about it too.

"Did you know that everybody's talking about how you _never_ let his hand go the entire time you were in the ballroom?" Anna asked, obviously elated and very lively, more than she usually was. "Everybody just stopped and _stared_ at the two of you when you were dancing. Even Kristoff and I were distracted— and we were _busy_ ourselves!" the comment made Kristoff wince and cough nervously.

Elsa cheeks reddened, noticing this, Kristoff, usually being the more insightful one despite his being slow sometimes, stated, "That was Hans though, wasn't it?"

Elsa didn't think her cheeks could get any redder, but it did, and she was thankful for the mask she was still wearing, then Krisroff continued, "I saw him walking out of the ballroom without his mask, I called him but I don't think he heard me."

Elsa sighed and absentmindedly, her fingers traced the golden patterns on his mask, she remembered what he said earlier, and humoring herself, she traced the patterns with her ice. It seemed to glow brighter and brighter but, as it seems, only she was the who saw the patterns glow.

_Remember that I am the only person capable of making those patterns, and only your ice_ _is capable of confirming that._

Seeing her sigh and look absentminded was so out of character, Anna wasn't as sensitive as Elsa when it came to seeing past someone's mask, but Anna was keen enough to know that her sister was troubled.

"We actually had _one_ conversation," Anna confessed. "His manners reminded me a bit of Kristoff's lack of grace," she looked at Kristoff apologetically, to which the man just shrugged at, Anna lacked grace too anway. "So it removed my suspicions that he could be Hans, he sounded _way_ too different anyway, like… kinder and genuine. So I'm willing to believe that he's _changed_," then she shrugged playfully, her eyes glimmered with mischievousness. "Although that doesn't mean I wouldn't be pulling a few _harmless_ pranks on him the next time we meet."

If _you meet again._ Elsa almost laughed, but she only smiled. Kristoff then commented, "You can count me in on that one."

"You know, Elsa, I've never seen you smile the way you did when you were dancing with him," Anna wrapped an arm around her sister. "And for that reason, I'm willing to overlook the fact that he's Hans."

"Anna," Elsa reprimanded, but her voice lacked the conviction she wanted it to have. "I was smiling like that _before_ I knew who he was."

"Psh," Anna waved her off. "Don't tell me you weren't suspicious about his identity," to which Kristoff nodded in agreement.

Elsa could only shake her head, "Perhaps."

"Exactly!" Anna exclaimed, making Elsa wince slightly because Anna had shouted almost directly into her ear. "And also, this is the first time I've ever seen you look so... _sad_."

"I'm not _sad!_" Elsa defended, sounding a touch indignant.

"What Anna meant to say," Kristoff cut in. "Is that you look troubled, a bit lost may I add, like you want to chase after him, but you don't know if you should. Or like you care a teeny, tiny bit," Kristoff held his thumb and index finger at eye level to prove his point about _teeny, tiny._

"Do you think he could make you happy?" Anna suddenly asked, her voice was both curious and innocent. "Do you think he could make you smile that way again?"

"Do you think any other man could make you smile the way he did tonight?" Kristoff added as well.

"Are you two my voice of reason now?" Elsa asked exasperatedly before managing to compose herself. The two were _and_ weren't making any sense.

Kristoff took the mask in Elsa's hand, and she almost snatched it back from him, "This is not golden shoe, but I think this still means we find the one who owns it."

"And find out if he _is_ the one," Anna nodded, taking the mask from Kristoff and giving it back to Elsa.

She _wasn't_ in love with him, gods no! She wasn't a romantic, nor was she fanciful enough to actually believe _one_ night would be enough to _fall in love_ with someone, and for crying out loud! The man was looking for forgiveness, not romance—**but he did kiss you,** a voice in her head interrupted, making her groan.

_It was one meaningless kiss._

However, Elsa admitted grudgingly to herself, she _was_ infatuated with entertaining that notion that she _could_ love the disgraced prince after all that was her reason for writing to the king of the Southern Isles, and _specifically_ inviting Hans to represent their crown on her coronation.

She had a very brief correspondence with Hans, after her parents' deaths, and while his more familiar way of writing to her didn't mean she could judge him as trustworthy— after all, he proved to be otherwise—it didn't mean that she wasn't interested.

Elsa held up the mask in the air, _the proverbial golden slhoe_, pondering about what her next move would be. Would she leave Arendelle without a proper ruler to go to the Southern Isles, and _entertain_ the request of the man that waited for her there, or perhaps she should just write a letter to him? She didn't think it would be fair if all she did was write a letter… but she had a kingdom to run, and she was _still_ unconvinced if it was worth leaving her kingdom to chase after one man, and have him know that he was forgiven.

**In her hand a black mask, with golden**

**_patterns, t'was no golden shoe— but_**

**_The Queen, in her reverie, pondered_**

**_what she should do. For in a foreign land_**

**_across the sea, far from her kingdom_**

**_awaits a prince—disgraced, and seeking_**

**_redemption for his past sins. The Queen_**

**_is pondering, and the Prince she once_**

**_abhorred, waits and wonder if he'll_**

**_wait forevermore._**

* * *

Some of you might recognize this story from my earlier Iceburns/Helsa compilation called _Bitter and Sweet. _I edited it and placed it in here, so those who haven't seen my first comp., will know because I'm posting the sequel here. I'm also adding those little random quotes before the story. Three cheers for random, but appropriate quotes.

If you know of a story or a poem that I can use to make a story, just write a review or send me a message and I'll check it out.

So far I've got 5 stories I'm working on, and 1 poem.

1. The original French version used a _glass slipper _(as did the Disney version) but I took the liberty of using the Grimm's version and used _golden shoe; _and in this story, the golden show is Hans's _black mask with golden patterns._

2. There were _two white pigeons _singing to the prince during his search for Cinderella, so he wouldn't make the mistake of marrying one of the sisters, and in this story I think those pigeons are kind of (because I just realized this later) like _Kristoff and Anna._

3. That little poem at the end... I just threw it in because the entire story of_ Aschenputtel_ had those short verses in it and... yeah.

4. So, on the more obvious parts. The _prince _is _Elsa_, and _Cinderella _is _Hans. _Elsa doesn't recognize Hans at first, although she has her suspicions, but instead of putting something on him (like the glass slipper/golden shoe), she removes something from him (the mask).

5. Clock struck twelve. _Midnight._

6. Subtler notes: The _fairy godmother _in this story is kind of... Hans's oldest brother, the _King of the Southern Isles and Ivan_. The "transformation" part started with the king's decree to have Hans be treated like a commoner and live in town for five years. How _Ivan _fits in will be explained... in the sequel.

**Thanks for reading!**

**Cheers!**


	2. Jack and Jill

_Helsa Week, Day 1: Falling For You_

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney. Skyway Avenue is by We The Kings_

_Here's to whoever wrote Jack and Jill._

* * *

**Jack and Jill**

_**"Jack is to Jill, who Romeo was for Juliet."**_

_******She said lets change our luck,**_

"_What a wonderful match._"

"_Aye, they will make a great match."_

"_Master Erasmus is lucky to be marrying our future duchess._"

"_He's a lucky man._"

_Oh yes, _Hans thought bitterly, brother dearest was indeed lucky to be marrying the future duchess of Arendelle. Hans clenched his fists hard as he remembered the talk of the town.

He despised Erasmus more than anything, and their father arranging his half-brother's marriage to the woman that _he _loved was a low blow. He was enraged, but it wasn't like he could gain anybody's support.

He was the bastard son of the earl. He was branded as the town outcast. Nobody would listen to him, and nobody would support him. He slammed his fists on the table, making its wooden frame shake under the force. Hans yearned to punch the smirk off Erasmus' face. He hadn't felt this mad in a long time; the last time he had been bloody enraged, his father had given him ten lashes for _kissing _a girl who, for the record, had _wanted _the kiss.

He had been swallowing his pride, had been keeping his head down, and had been accepting the barrages of taunts and insults that were thrown at him; but he's had enough now.

_Too much is too much._

There was a knock on the door, Hans simply glared at door, hoping that the person on the other side would just go away. Silence, then he heard the muffled neigh of a horse, and his expression darkened.

The knock came again, tentative but persistent. He growled irately, he knew the person out there would be too stubborn to leave. He moved to stand up, the chair scraped against the floor as he pushed it back, before falling on the ground with a loud thud.

He walked towards the door with heavy footsteps, and he yanked the door open. He glared down at _her, _and in a low and gruff voice he growled—

"I don't want you here."

"Well, I'm here," she matched his irate stare with a stubborn glare of her own. A shadow from the hood she was wearing cast itself upon her face under the dim light of the moon, and the lanterns in his cottage. For a moment he seemed _tantalized _by her beauty; but he caught himself.

"Then leave," he crossed his arms and barred his door with his huge frame, "_Now,_" there was a twitch in his eye, and a tick in his jaw. His eyes traveled down to her lips, it was hard to push her away when she looked too damned _kissable._

"I apologize," she said through gritted teeth, unaware of his shift of focus"But _no,_" and she pushed past him with a huff, he allowed himself to be pushed aside.

Blinking and staring at the empty spot in front of him, he narrowed his eyes and sighed exasperatedly, then he slammed the door shut while muttering strings of curses under his breath.

"What are you doing here, _your grace?_" he asked her, voice dripping with venomous sarcasm, then he smirked at her wickedly, "Imagine the scandal when the rumors spread that the little heiress is traipsing with the town outcast. _Better yet_," his smirk grew more taunting, "Imagine how distraught _Erasmus_ will be."

Instead of retorting, she sighed tiredly.

He didn't like that.

He wanted her mad at him, damn it.

Her hands went up to the already worn edges of her fairly new hood, her hand paused mid-air, as if pondering on its next move.

_Don't, _he begged in his mind, _just leave this place. Why do you keep coming back?_

"Come on, milady," he drawled sarcastically, "Aren't you _too _perfect to be on this side of town?"

Instead of removing her cloak, she lowered her hand and clasped them together, "Hans, don't be so childish," she begged quietly.

_Just leave! _he screamed in his head, _Leave before I say anything more foolish!_

"Please," she looked away, wringing her hands together, "I'm already tired enough as it is."

At that moment, he instantly wanted to walk over to her and wrap his arms around to whisper sweet nothings into her ear; but he held himself in place. He was still mad. He was _too _mad at himself, for not being good enough, for not being born _right _so he could take her away from his cocky, buffoon of a brother.

"Then you shouldn't have come here, your grace," he spat out as he leaned against the table, giving her a dark stare, "There's nothing her for y—"

Her hood fell down and her hair, which was still braided, flew out as she reached for him, silencing him with a kiss. His hands went to her arms, nails digging into her skin, trying to push her away.

_Don't do this!_

But her kiss was persistent and he eventually loosened his grasp, matching the breathless neediness of her kiss.

She pulled away slightly, then she rested her forehead against his chest. He didn't move, he didn't even dare to breathe; he could feel his heart hammering against his chest, and he cursed his inability to keep his emotions and desire reigned when he was in her presence.

"Let's leave this place, Hans," she whispered gently, her voice almost breaking, "Let's be free together someplace else."

You belong here, I don't. Your people needs gritted his teeth and he scoffed, "And trade away your perfect little life?"

_Get mad at me, _he tried to remove himself from her, but found himself unable to do so, _hate me and push me away._

Bitter laughter escaped her lips., "You know well enough that my life isn't perfect."

More quietly he reiterated, "You love your little sister too much to leave," when Elsa didn't reply, a madly gleeful expression danced in his eyes, "You're terrified of disappointing your father," he felt her hand tightening around the front of his shirt, "And you would hate not being able to fulfill your duty to your people."

"Hans, enou—"

"Always with the big words for _everybody_, but when it comes to _me_," Hans mocked again, cutting her off. He wanted to punch himself in the face, but somehow he couldn't help himself; he had a talent for riling her up and hurting her, "You can never live up to them, _can you_?"

He felt her flinch, but he didn't stop there, "_Let's run away together. Let's go somewhere else. I want to be with you_— but at the end of the day, you're still your father's perfect little daughter."

A loud slap echoed across the room, and almost at the same time, a tangy, metallic taste erupted in his mouth. Hans swallowed, then he blinked like he had just woken up from a dream. He ignored stinging pain, instead he focused on the tears glistening in Elsa's midnight blue eyes. His gaze softened, and he mentally cursed himself.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against him and encasing her in his warmth. A shaky breath escaped his lips as he felt her shoulders shaking.

He was a heartless man who knew nothing but how to hurt the person he loved. _How marvelously quaint, _he gritted his teeth against the stabbing feeling in his chest.

"I'm sorry," Elsa murmured against his chest. He was sure that what little that was left of his heart had broken _for _her. He was angry, sad and desperate. He disliked doing so, but he would always end up throwing all of his frustrations out on the _only_ person who cared about him.

Perhaps it's because she was the only person who _understood _him even when he felt like losing himself. Perhaps it was because she was the only person who _listened_… _As if she doesn't have enough problems of her own._

"No," he whispered sadly. He pulled away and leaned down, looking deep into her eyes, "_I'm _sorry," he said again, trying to console her, "Elsa, please stop crying, _please._"

Even his own voice had sounded desperate in his ears.

_******This night is all we've got,**_

It was as if time had stopped, and in a heartbeat all of their pent up emotions exploded into a single, fiery kiss. Lost in their passion, Hans didn't care that he was on top of the duke's daughter, on a_ table. Oh how scandalizing, _then again he never really cared about a lot of things.

"Hans, wait—" Elsa said breathlessly as Hans's fingers started deftly removing her gloves, "_Hans."_

Elsa hugged her wrist against her chest, but Hans had already seen _it. _Just below the scars on her right wrist, was a newly bandaged wound. There were still traces of barely dried blood tainting the white bandage.

_No._

Hans had felt like he'd been sucker-punched into a stupor. He fell back, and Elsa sat up and tried to pull him towards her, but he avoided her touch, instead he caught her hand. He stared at her wrist dumbly, then he shut his eyes tightly. He let go of her hand, and he turned away from her.

_******No.**_

"Hans."

_******No! No! **_

He walked over to the door, trying to put as much distance between him and Elsa.

_******NO! NO! **_

"Hans, _please._"

_******NO!**_

He could feel his chest heaving as he breathed in and out harshly, he could hear his heartbeat thudding against his chest. For the first time in his life, Hans was thankful that his cottage was far from town and situated within the forest.

**__****Gods damn it, Elsa!**

An incoherent, enraged yell erupted from his chest as his fists flew to the door, it shook under the weight of his punches.

Elsa, winced, but she didn't say anything, she could feel the tears stinging in her eyes again. Hans fell down to his knees, suddenly feeling weak.

His fists were clenched so tight his nails drew blood against his palm. Hans took a calming breath, stood up and turned to face Elsa again. He walked back towards her with careful steps, like he was afraid of venturing into unknown territory.

His green gaze was filled with hurt and just a touch of betrayal, "_You promised._"

She flinched, and she lowered her gaze to her bandaged wrist, "I was…" but she trailed off, like every time she did _before._

"You can't keep doing this to yourself, Elsa," he spoke, resisting the urge to shake her, because how many times had he tried to stop? How many times had he woken up from a nightmare because he had kept losing her over and over again? _As if our current situation isn't painful enough,_ "If you won't listen to _my_ reason, if you don't care that _I'm_ terrified of losing you— then at least think of _Anna_," the look in his emerald eyes was loud and clear, "She needs you," he was begging her, "_You know _she needs you."

_I need you._

"I know."

_******Let's drive until we crash,**_

And she kissed him again.

This time, Hans allowed himself to be distracted completely, but still taking great care not to touch her wrist, he knew how _rough _he could be and he was afraid that he might hurt her.

_And_, at least this time he had managed to successfully carry her to his _bed. _Both of them as bare as the day they were born, both in body and in heart. He had her trapped and writhing beneath him. He lowered himself, teasingly, and he kissed her bottom lip.

"What do you want?" he rasped out, looking into her eyes with a fierce adoration.

She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to pull him down closer, "_You._"

He plunged into her, and for a moment that might as well have lasted an eternity— all their fears and worries were thrown carelessly away with the wind.

_******This dead-end life,**_

_Once upon a time…_

******There was an Earl, and a Duke.**

The Earl of the Southern Lands was a nobleman under the Duke of Arendelle. Other than serving the duke, it was known far and wide that the two men were as close as brothers. They have known each other since they were babes, and had been in most, if not all, of the most important events in the lives of the one another.

******There was a scandal.**

Lord Westergard had sired his thirteenth son, a _bastard _child which the townspeople have branded as The Son of the Witch. Many had said that Lord Westergard's devotion to his late wife had been unquestionable, and the wench that had sired the babe with him had seduced him with witchcraft, and disappeared soon after the birth of the boy.

******His name was Hans.**

Bastard. Outcast. Cursed.

He had been called so many names, but that little boy that had been thrown in the orphanage tried to remember that his real name was _Hans._

******The Duke must've pitied the boy.**

Whatever reason he had, or perhaps it was the duke's innate kindness and compassion, Lord Isenstrom successfully convinced his old friend not to completely abandon Hans; and on his part, Lord Westergard made sure that the boy would be brought up in a manner that was, to some degree, fit for a son of a nobleman.

******And thus the hopeless story found its first chapter.**

Everyday, Hans was brought to the Arendellian manor, upon Lord Isenstrom's insistence, for private tutoring.

******There was an heiress.**

During that time, Hans had met Elsa, the heiress to Arendelle's duchy. She was graceful, beautiful and courteous. She was a touch bit too shy and, compared to her younger sister, was more quiet and reserved.

******The bastard learned the meaning of ****__****friendship.**

He was ten, and she was eight. They bickered, taunted, and teased one another.

Lord Westergard had expressed his displeasure more than once.

_"The boy should learn his place."_

But Lord Isenstrom had encouraged the friendship.

_"Leave them be, Westergard, they are children."_

But neither men knew the extent of the friendship Isenstrom had encouraged.

Being a child meant _games_, but the older they grew, the more apparent their bickering would lead to something more.

******They started dreaming ****__****together.**

And _more _did come.

He was fifteen, and she was thirteen. At that time it had been easy to say they owned the world; even if they were worlds apart.

They _still_ believed in fairytales. He believed he would be the prince to sweep her off her feet. And she believed _in_ him.

******And after every dream, came reality.**

The older they got, the more they learned the harshness of life. The bastard son, and heiress was not meant to be, but the more they pushed their feelings away, the more dangerously their desires tried to escape.

Until finally, they would have none of it.

******And reality was a harsh and cruel thing.**

He was eighteen, and she was sixteen. They shared their first kiss; it wasn't a public thing, but Anna and one of his brothers had seen them.

Hans had received his first lashing from his father.

_"You insolent fool!"_

And Elsa had learned how to cut herself.

_"This was not how I raised you!"_

They learned fairytales did not exist.

******But reality still permitted fragments of their dreams to remain.**

They met secretly. They lived for their clandestine meetings. _Lived to be together. _It was as though their story had been cruelly written, in which their love cannot be denied even though their stars forbid it.

******Those fragments are being carried away by the wind, to nothingness.**

Now, he is twenty-three, and she is twenty-one. As the heiress, she was expected to marry; and _her_ marriage was arranged to one of _his_ older brothers.

_Their_ time together was _running out._

**__****Sweet dreams that won't come true,**

"Open your eyes, my love," Hans gently nudged Elsa awake. She stirred in his arms, but did not open her eyes, "It's time to go, Sitron is getting impatient waiting for you outside."

Sitron was_ their_ horse, they had raised the stallion together.

"Elsa, love," he kissed her forehead, "There will be a riot when your father finds your room empty."

Hans respected Lord Isenstrom, the man had many flaws but compared to Lord Westergard, Hans had seen the duke more as a father.

Elsa finally opened her eyes, she looked at him with tired gaze, "I wish that I could be with you longer."

His reply was a smile and tender kiss. She returned the kiss briefly, then she extracted herself, regretfully, from his arms. Hans watched her dress, as skilled as he was at removing them, he barely had any clue as to putting them back.

He chuckled.

Just as she was putting on her cloak, she paused and looked at him inquiringly, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, a light smile touched his lips, "You are beautiful, _my queen._"

She walked back towards his bed and kissed him again, "One day, I promise we will be together."

Hans took her hand, and he kissed the inside of her wrist, his lips touching her scars lightly, "One day, I promise it will be right."

She smiled, and he returned the gesture.

_"I love you."_

_"And I, you."_

******I'd leave it all for you,**

With Elsa gone, Hans had a lot of time to think. The auburn-haired man has always wondered what _he _had to lose.

He was a bastard, his father would have gladly gotten rid of him if it weren't for Lord Isentrom's insistence to at least grant him a fair upbringing. He was the town outcast, he was bad luck son of the witch. Nobody wanted him. Nobody cared about him. Nobody loved him.

Nobody except for her.

But Elsa, had everything to lose. The respect of her father, the love of her sister, the adoration of Arendelle, her future as the heiress, and many other things he was too tired to think about.

And yet…

Despite herself, he knew that there was a great part of her that would leave all of those behind for him; and he didn't want her to leave any of those things behind, didn't want her to sacrifice anything for _his _sake.

Elsa was stubborn, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop her once she has set her mind on a goal. He closed his eyes, there was a peaceful smile on his face.

A comforting warmth spread from his chest to the the tip of his fingers, the feeling becoming more pronounced with every beat of his heart, As he drifted off to sleep, he knew that if their roles were reserved, he would do the same for her.

_I would gladly carry the weight of the world, if it means I can make you smile._

_******Brick walls are closing in,**_

"Hans!"

He turned away from the horse he was brushing, and came face to face with a breathless looking Anna.

"Er, yes, milady?" he bowed slightly, unsure of what to say to her.

"They're pushing the wedding earlier," she wheezed out, "Elsa will marry Erasmus in a fortnight!"

Hans froze. The wedding wasn't supposed to be until the next harvest moon. A fortnight was far too soon. He thought he had more time with her.

Hans cleared his throat, and then he turned away from Anna and acted like the news didn't bother him as he went back to his work, "And why did you feel the need to tell me this, milady?"

He heard her huff indignantly, "I'm no longer a little girl, Hans."

He shook his head ruefully, "I suppose not."

"I know you _love _her, Hans," Anna pressed on firmly, "And I know she feels the same way about you."

"And, pray tell," Hans turned around, smirking sardonically at Anna, "How would _you _know that?"

Anna lifted her chin and met his gaze with stubborn surety, "Because you look at her the same way Kristoff looks a me, and she looks at you the same way I looked at Kristoff."

Hans fell silent, his expression softened and he looked away. He didn't bother to argue otherwise, so instead he said, "If it's not a bother, will you please tell Elsa I would like to talk to her?"

_******Let's make a run tonight,**_

It was a little past midnight but Hans didn't feel the least bit drowsy. He had kept himself occupied by having a one-sided conversation with Sitron— he had heard Kristoff doing the same thing with his reindeer, Sven.

Instead of going home, Hans hid in the stables and waited until he was sure the household would be sound asleep.

He had to talk to Elsa as soon as possible, and he knew she wasn't going to his house until the end of the week, and he didn't want to wait that long.

Hans looked at the night sky from inside the stable through the open window in Sitron's stall. Sitron nickered and nudged Hans gently, as though comforting the man.

Hans couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips, despite his anxiousness, Sitron's gesture gave him a bit of solace. A soft knock against the wooden door before it slid open brought Hans out of his quiet reverie; he looked away from the night sky for a moment and looked at the tall, blond man that had entered the stables.

Hans chuckled bitterly as he looked back up to the stars, "May I ask you a question?"

A frown made its way to Kristoff's face, but he nodded nonetheless. Remembering that Hans wasn't looking at him, he cleared his throat and added, "Go ahead."

Hans was silent for a couple of seconds, absentmindedly petting Sitron. Then without looking at Kristoff, Hans spoke, "There was a prince," Hans begun, "Who had no purpose other than to endure a meaningless life of…" he trailed off, "_pretension_.

"Then he met…" Hans trailed of again, as if pondering, "a _queen,_" a small smile formed on Hans's lips, but still he didn't look at Kristoff, "He felt as though he had _finally_ found his purpose."

"What did he do?"

"He fell in love with her."

Kristoff hummed, thinking about Hans's words, "So the prince fell in love with the queen, big deal."

A brief, but hearty chuckle made its way past Hans's lips, and this time he met Kristoff's gaze, "Well, the prince is rather… _selfish_," Hans didn't bother to hide his smirk, "Despite knowing the kingdom needed a queen, he took her away."

"Happens all the time," Kristoff shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against Sitron's stall.

"Yes, but…" Hans looked away again, green eyes travelling back to gaze upon the stars, "Tell me, Kristoff, does that selfishness make the prince a _villain_?"

Kristoff blinked, slightly unsure of how to answer; pondering over it, he asked, "Does the queen love the prince?"

A wistful smile formed on the auburn-haired man's lips, as he closed his eyes, "Yes, the prince believes that _indeed, _the queen loves him as much as he does her."

Kristoff shrugged, answering, "Then it's okay," when Hans looked at him with one raised eyebrow, he added, "If the queen really does love the prince, then it's fine if they flee the kingdom to be together."

"But what about the queen's duties?" Hans prodded, "What if it breaks the queen's heart to leave her kingdom behind?"

"Then the queen will have to choose between the prince and her kingdom," an uncharacteristic smirk formed on Kristoff's lips, "Or the prince can decide to stay with her."

"What if nobody likes the prince?"

"_What if _you just decided to give the prince and the queen a happy ending to their story?" Kristoff threw back, having the same challenging expression on his face as Hans. Kristoff understood perfectly the meaning behind Hans's story.

"If only it were that easy," Hans sighed, and Kristoff's expression turned into that of understanding as he quietly murmured, "Maybe it could be."

"Perhaps," Hans averted his gaze, and looked at Sitron, patting the horse between its eyes, "But to make it easy, one must run away from a painful truth; that reality is brutal, and fairytales do not end happily without a bit of selfishness."

"Elsa is to marry Erasmus in a fortnight," Kristoff finally said after a moment of silence, "If the only thing keeping her here in Arendelle are her duties as its future duchess, then I don't think being with you is too much of a sin."

"She will not leave Anna behind," Hans stood up and walked towards Kristoff, "And I won't allow her to throw the weight of her responsibilities to Anna for _my_ sake."

"Elsa will be trapped in a loveless marriage with Erasmus," Kristoff pressed, meeting Hans's gaze unflinchingly, "She will be unhappy," there was a newfound edge to Kristoff's voice, "And worse of all, she will have to endure it _without _you."

Hans swallowed and opened his mouth, but found no words forming from his lips. Kristoff continued speaking, "If you cannot be with her _here, _and she decides she'll be with you _somewhere _else, who are you to stop her?" Hans pressed his lips tightly, and Kristoff took this as a sign to continue speaking, "_I _will be here for Anna if Elsa's absence will be too much of a burden for her," Hans clenched his jaw tightly but did not stop Kristoff from continuing, "And it will hurt Anna more to see Elsa suffering quietly, than bear something silly like running a duchy to ensure her sister's happiness; and Anna's unhappiness is _something _I will _not_ allow," finally Kristoff concluded, "So for your sakes, as much as ours, _be_ selfish; and we will _all _suffer the consequences _together._"

Hans released a sigh, he felt just a tad bit uplifted. He offered Kristoff a small, but genuinely grateful smile. "Thank you, Kristoff."

"Now," Kristoff grinned triumphantly, giving Hans a hard pat on the back, "Shall I take you to Elsa?"

_******She said don't change your mind,**_

Elsa knew that Anna had a habit for bursting in her room in the ungodly hours of the night, but most of those visits stopped after it became obvious to her younger sister that her lessons and tutoring were becoming more tiring.

Today was a particularly hellish day since the duke and the earl seemed convinced that the wedding should be moved, and she had to argue with her father about all the reasons why the wedding had to wait. Elsa loved her father, and as much as she hated arguing with him, sometimes she wished he would just listen to her instead of pretending that he is.

Or rather, she wished he would—for _one _day—treat her like his daughter and not like his _heiress._

Hellish day and everything, Elsa did not mind Anna's company one bit, except she felt like Anna was _stalling. _So to be perfectly honest, Elsa wasn't surprised that there was a knock on her door.

She got up from her bed, and when she opened the door, "Kristoff?" Elsa frowned, Kristoff was grinning like a guilty schoolboy, finally she saw the person behind him, "_Hans?" _now _that _surprised her.

"Oh would you look at the time?" Anna suddenly piped p, "Guess I better be leaving!" then she skipped past Elsa and pulled Kristoff away. Elsa blinked, slightly exasperated.

"May I come in?" Hans asked in a quiet voice.

Elsa stepped aside to let him enter, then she peered outside to check if anybody were outside, but of course there was nobody there.

Door finally closed, Elsa turned around and faced Hans, "What are you doing here?"

"And I thought you'd be happy to see me," he pouted childishly.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, walking towards him "I _am _happy to see you, I'm merely asking why."

"Do I need a reason to see you?" Hans asked, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead.

"Just yesterday you wanted me to go away," she teased gently, reaching up to caress his cheek.

"_Just yesterday_," he said with emphasis, "You wanted to run away with me," despite the loopy grin on his face, Elsa saw past his mask.

"You've heard, haven't you?"

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry."

He frowned, worry and fear gripped him suddenly, "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because I doubted you."

Hans did a double take. He blinked, then for good measure he blinked again, "Pardon?"

Elsa giggled softly, fondly caressing his face with both of her hands, "I thought you'd try to make me stay here."

_******Let's leave this town behind,**_

"Believe me," Hans pulled her closer, breathing her scent in and holding her as though he was about to lose her that very moment, "I am very willing to take you away right now."

"Where would we go?" she asked him, her voice soft but not without conviction.

"_Anywhere_," he replied, and he never thought that so much passion can be put into one word, "Anywhere as long as we're together."

Silence fell between them, but it wasn't awkward or tensed, rather it was consoling.

Finally, Elsa broke the silence, "Thank you," she whispered gently, looking up at him with tearful eyes—or so he thought, but maybe it was the candlelight playing tricks on his eyes.

"For what?" Hans asked her curiously.

"For making me the happiest I have ever been."

This time, Hans kissed her lips, it was brief but passionate as though he were conveying his emotions into that one kiss, "Always."

_******We'll race right off the cliff,**_

"Imagine the look of horror on your father's face when he finds me in here," Hans grinned playfully at Elsa, then the heiress' smile tuned coy and she pushed him on the bed—not that he was complaining or anything.

"Imagine the look of horror on his face when he finds us doing this," Elsa's fingers entangled itself in his auburn locks, pulling him in for a deep and passionate kiss.

He pulled away long enough to say, "It would be very safe to assume that he'll having me jumping the cliff by the morrow," and then he kissed her again.

In a blur, articles of clothing found themselves scattered on the floor, and just like that their worries were forgotten again.

_******They will remember this,**_

Hans has always known he had a knack for doing stupid and unconventional things that has more than once threatened the balance of the fairly peaceful life in Arendelle. The first time he realized was on the day he learned that acting sweet, and smiling sweetly will get him out of a lot of trouble.

This time he obviously wasn't going to get out of trouble just by acting sweet; to save his arse, he most likely had to scour the entire town's support, which, of course, won't happen as everybody almost hated him.

_Ah, well. It's a good thing we fell asleep in our clothes then_.

Watching the scene unfolding before him with pursed lips, Han's didn't speak.

"Father, I can explain!" Elsa shouted, throwing herself in front of the duke and trying to get him to listen.

"Enough, Elsa!" the duke bellowed loudly, it was as though the entire castle shook from its core, "I will hear no more of this."

"Sir, this isn't—" Hans tried to speak.

"And _you!_" Lord Isentrom pointed a finger at him angrily, and Hans was sure this was the first he had seen the duke—or any man—so enraged, "I trusted you to be better than this," Hans almost winced, but he kept his expression neutral, "I took pity on you when your father wanted no part of you, I raised you like my son!" Hans could feel the duke's words cutting deeply, "And _this_ is how you repay me? By _ruining my daughter?!"_

The desperation in Elsa's voice rung clearly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, "Father, please, if you would just listen, I can—"

"I said enough!" Lord Isenstrom bellowed angrily, louder than before, he stomped out of the room and then at the top of his lungs, he shouted, "Kai!"

"Yes, your grace?" the duke's adviser and head of the household came almost immediately. Kai seemed unnerved, but otherwise kept a straight face.

"Have this man locked up, and have a note sent to Erasmus, I want to meet him posthaste," the duke's voice was quieter this time, edged with deadly calm, and that was worse than his shouting.

**__****It all got so mundane,**

Hans wasn't sure how long he has been sitting in the middle of his cell, but the putrid stench and the ear-shattering silence were getting on his nerves. Nevertheless, he just sat there, as frozen as an ice sculpture. Ever since being thrown inside and getting into a sitting position—hands clasped in front of him, head down as if in prayer—he hasn't moved an inch; the only tell-tale sign that he was alive were the rise and fall of his chest and his soft breath.

Hans shifted slightly, his ears perked up and listened intently to the sound of the footfalls echoing along the dungeon halls. The footsteps stopped directly in front of him, even without looking up, he knew who it was, "How nice of you to visit, _brother dearest_."

"It would be rude if not a single one of us older brothers will visit our pitiful brother," Erasmus smirked, enjoying the fact that he was looking down at Hans.

Forest green eyes met sinister blue eyes unflinchingly, "So they sent the useless twelfth brother to do such a tedious chore."

"Useless, me?" Erasmus blue turned a shade darker, "I'll be marrying the future duchess of Arendelle."

"Really?" Hans mocked sardonically, "Last I heard the wedding was cancelled," that was a lie, of course, but still he wished it weren't so.

"Over something as trivial as a speck of dust like you?" Erasmus raised an eyebrow mockingly, he barked a laugh, "I doubt it."

"Well, you're the worthless brother after all," Hans shrugged carelessly, there was a jeering smile on his lips as he looked away, "So of course you'd settle for a ruined bride if it means you can prove your worth."

Erasmus didn't take the bait and sneered at Hans, "You're the worthless one amongst us, brother."

"Funny, _brother,_" Hans scoffed, "I don't remember ever being a part of the brood."

Erasmus' smirk turned into a glower, just as he was about to retort, Hans waved a hand to silence him, saying, "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be discussing _matters _with Lord Isenstrom?"

"I couldn't let the chance to gloat pass by," Erasmus shrugged as he smirked again.

"Gloat?" Hans asked with false curiosity, "Have you finally won _town's ugliest arse_?"

Erasmus bit back a snarl and composed himself, glaring at Hans he gritted, "I can finally dispose of you, _Hans._"

"Why do you hate me so much, Erasmus," Hans sighed, honestly curious. He knew that most of his half-brothers hated him, but most of them just ignored him like he's the plague, but then there's Erasmus, and he seemed to enjoy every second of making Hans's life living hell.

"I don't need a reason other than my extreme dislike, a thank you for making my job easier, little brother."

"Or perhaps," Hans declared, standing up and meeting Eramus glare at eye-level, they were about the same height, but Hans was slightly bigger due to his time working in the woods, "You're only doing this because you're too cowardly to fight against our older brothers," Hans spat out venomously, "So you take it all out on me."

Erasmus' fist flinched as though he were about to punch Hans across the bars, but he kept his posture rigid and firm, "I don't have to listen to you, trash," Erasmus waved a hand dismissively, "Once words get out that you forced yourself upon my betrothed and tried to ruin her, I will have the entire town's support to get rid of you once and for all."

"Is that what you think, Erasmus," Hans smirked, leaning against the bars, "I didn't try to ruin Elsa, nor did I force myself upon here."

"Nobody will believe you otherwise," and with that Erasmus started walking away.

"What I meant," Hans clarified, his voice edged with wicked glee, "Is that I _never _had to force myself upon her," his lips parted into a Cheshire grin, "Nor can I ruin something that is _mine."_

"What did you say?" Erasmus asked, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Hans.

Hans knew he had successfully irked his Erasmus; for all the dastardly man's fault, Hans knew that Erasmus was madly, and unrequitedly in love with Elsa, or rather, that he _desired _to the point that it must've hurt. So instead of replying, Hans said instead, ""Honestly, I'm more surprised that she has yet to carry my child."

"_You bastard_!" unable to keep his composure, Erasmus lunged at Hans, but with the bars separating them, all had to do was take a step back.

"Stating the obvious now, aren't we?" Hans 'tsk-ed', laughing mockingly.

"I will have you killed," Erasmus threatened, his face red and his expression dark.

"Elsa won't allow it," Hans stated confidently, his expression just as dark as Erasmus'.

"She _will,_" Erasmus smirked evilly, his expression was so vile that an unwanted fear ran down his spine, "I'll make sure of it."

_******With you I'm back again,**_

The wedding was moved, Hans would have been happy if he hasn't been left to rot in the dungeons for the past couple of days. His occasional visitors were rats, and the _boring, _unsmiling guards who never failed to bring him the most inedible food he has ever come across.

Which is why Hans was surprised when his nosed picked up a rather delightful smell when the heavy doors leading to dungeon had creaked opened.

_I am obviously going crazy._

The cloaked figure holding a basket, one that he would _never _fail to recognize, opened the barred doors to his cell and entered.

"Come to feed me my last edible meal before my execution," he teased lightly.

She pulled of the hood of her cloak and glared at him, "Don't make jokes about things like that."

"It's dull in here, you know, can't I have my fun before I die," when she glared at him again, he raised his hands up in mock surrender, "I'll stop, but do tell, milady, where is _Elsa_?"

"Father won't let Elsa out of his sight," Anna sighed, "And she's still trying to convince him not to kill you the moment he lays eyes on you."

"Is it working?" Hans asked, half serious, and half teasing, "Because I'm smelling glorious food right now."

"I'm not sure," Anna shook her head sadly, making Hans raise an eyebrow, "Father is still _beyond_ furious with you."

"I see," Hans murmured quietly, unsure of what else to say.

"I'll leave that with you," Anna motioned towards the basket she had just given him moments earlier, then she gave him a simple, ivory white envelope, "And here," Hans took the envelope from her, his fingers lightly traced Elsa's monogram on the corner.

"Thank you," Hans nodded just before Anna got out and locked the cells again.

Hans laid the basket down on the makeshift cot, making sure that his cellmates won't sneak their grimy little paws into the basket. Savoring the feel of the paper, and Elsa's scent that seemed imbued with both the envelope and the paper, Hans begun reading—

_I am constantly wishing I can be with you now more than ever. I cannot express how much I need you by my side during this times. I know I can convince father to let you go, but Erasmus machinations are making it difficult. I will strive to keep you safe. I promise._

"Oh, my love," Hans said woefully, his voice breaking, "I should be the one protecting you."

There was an intricately drawn snowflake on the bottom corner of the paper, and a nostalgic smile touched his lips.

He hated winter more than anything, because it reminded him of the cold nights he slept shivering and alone, but Elsa had loved that cold months, and meeting her had made him cherish winter as the warmest season.

Hans was unaware of the tears that rolled down his cheek.

_******Just take me by the hand,**_

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity trapped in those dungeons, Elsa had finally visited him, but Hans knew that it was just a dream. After all, the person in front of him was the little girl he had met years ago, and right now, he was still just a little boy.

"I've missed you, Hans," she told him with a very cute pout, "Where were these past couple of days? You've missed a lot lessons, you know?"

Hans held his hand in front of him, saying, "I'm not worried," he grinned at her cheekily, "I know you're going to help me."

She smiled at him appreciatively, but then her smile dissolved into a sad expression, "I'm sorry, Hans."

And just like that, she was the Elsa of the present, _his _Elsa.

"What for?" he asked, his voice sounded lower and more gruff, losing the innocence tone it once possessed when he was a child.

"Because I failed you," her midnight blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the light made it look like there were stars dancing in the sea of dark blue eyes. Elsa reached out, both hands touching his face gently, her touch was colder than ice.

"That's not true," he said, holding her hands in his, "You have never failed me, and you never will," he tried to smile at her, but it felt like such a tedious task.

"I'm sorry," she said again, tears finally falling.

Blood covered Hans's hands, his eyes widened as her tears turned into blood, and she bled from her wrists.

"Elsa, _no!_"

Hans's eyes flew wide open, and he shot up from bed gasping for breath. His heart hammered against its confines, as though it sought to break free. Hans wasn't sure if his face was covered in sweat or in tears. He brought his hand up to his face, and then he raked his fingers through his dusty, auburn hair.

An angry yell erupted from his lips, then it turned into a frustrated cry.

Was love supposed to be this painful?

_******We're close to the edge,**_

There were circles under Hans's eyes, after last night's nightmare, he had failed to fall asleep. He had been fearing the worse, and hasn't stopped pacing back and forth through his cell. He was so worried and distracted that he failed to notice the cell doors opening.

"Hans."

But _her _voice immediately brought him out of his reverie, he spun around with wide eyes and parted lips. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, breathed in her sent and made sure that she wasn't another apparition created by his mind.

"Elsa," he breathed deeply, feeling relieved despite the circumstances, "Thank the gods, you're fine."

Elsa frowned, with one hand she reached out to touch his cheek, she had a worried expression on her face. Suddenly, Hans blinked and simultaneously took both of her hands in his, then he flipped them over to look at her wrist. No new wounds, no new bandages.

Then he wrapped his arms around her again, "I had a nightmare," he explained hurriedly, "I feared the worse," then he sucked in a deep breath, "I'm sorry for not trusting you."

An indulgent smile formed on her lips as he pulled away from the hug, "It's alright, Hans," then her expression turned pained, "But I'm sorry," she looked away, "I've failed you."

Hans shook his head fiercely, the voice of his nightmares echoed in his head, "Never apologize to me for anything, love, _never._"

They drew apart when they heard the angry footsteps of maybe a handful of men walking down the dungeons halls. With a resolute expression, Hans squeezed Elsa's hand comfortingly one last time before they would be pulled apart.

_******Blinded by the lights,**_

Everything happened in a blur. Erasmus had yanked Elsa away from him, two guards seized him by his arms and shackled his wrists. Hans turned around to try and look at Elsa one last time, but the last he saw before the sack fell upon his head were the fire from the guard's torches.

Then he was dragged like a sack of hay, he didn't bother struggling as he knew it would be useless. He felt himself being thrown into some sort of carriage, then the door was slammed shut. The carriage rolled into motion, the path was rough and rocky, and suddenly, Hans knew where he would be taken.

_How ironic. Just nights ago I made a quip about jumping off a cliff, and now here we are._

_******Hold you through forever,**_

Hans discovered that the shackles they put around his wrists were badly placed; it was easy to remove them. He tore off the sack on his head, taking in a gulp of air. He begun rubbing his sore wrists as he started thinking about his next move.

The carriage was moving fast, but not _too _fast. He didn't hear anybody placing a lock on the carriage door, so he could probably just jump and escape.

_Then again…_

He thought against trying to escape. After all, he probably wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye to Elsa if he tried escaping. The guards would have been on horseback, Hans knew he wouldn't get very far till they catch him; and he didn't want to try and test the duke's patience, lest the man just decides to have him shot while being pursued, or beheaded the moment he's caught.

Instead, Hans closed his eyes and thought of Elsa.

He wanted to whisper promises of forever in her ears, he wanted to tell her that he would always be by her side; but, alas, Fate decided to be cruel to them.

When the door opened, Hans fixed a grin on his face as he waved his free hands in front of him just to spite the guard. The guard growled and yanked Hans out of the carriage, then he got dragged yet again kicked behind his knees and forced to kneel in front of the duke.

Hans, however, righted himself before he could completely stumble. He stood tall in front of Isenstrom, and held his chin proudly. He looked into the duke's eyes without flinching, "Your grace, may I have one final request."

Erasmus was first to speak up, "How dare y—"

A wave of a hand from the duke was enough to silence Erasmus, "You want to talk to my daughter."

"Yes, sir," Hans nodded pouring all his courtesy into those two words. He held his breath as the duke studied his expression intently.

Finally, the duke looked at his men and ordered, "Let him."

And Hans was taken to Elsa.

_******Won't let you go,**_

"Will it hasten my death if I kissed you right now?" Hans whispered lightly to Elsa, forcing a smile on his lips.

"If you _don't _kiss me right now," Elsa tried to sound threatening and keep her voice from breaking, "I will _personally _hasten your death."

"You love me too much," Hans chuckled softly, kissing Elsa's forehead.

"I do."

And he wrapped his arms around her.

_******Cause if you jump I will jump too,**_

"I will never stop loving you," Elsa whispered breathlessly, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and wishing that she would never have to let him go.

Hans looked around him, looked at their audience.

Lord Isentrom looked pained despite his neutral expression, Kristoff had his arms around Anna, and Anna had tears in her eyes; the guards, who looked obviously uncomfortable, were trying and failing to avert their gaze. Erasmus choked down an irritated gurgle, and Hans that almost made him smile. _Almost._

It was Elsa who truly made him smile at that moment. It would always be her who can make him smile, even in the direst situations.

_******We will fall together from the building's ledge,**_

Hans looked up at the sky and threw a prayer to whoever was up there listening, _At least give us a chance to be happy together in our next lifetime._

_******Never looking back at what we've done,**_

"I don't regret this," Elsa told Hans shakily, as she pulled away, her eyes brimmed with tears, "I don't regret _us. _I don't regret ever loving you."

"Loving you," Hans whispered, caressing her face gently with one hand, "Was the best decision I could have ever made, and I will _never _regret it."

Yes, despite all the trials, and despite of them pain—neither of them would regret it.

_******We'll say it was love,**_

"I love you," and with that fierce declaration, Hans didn't hold back anymore. He pressed his lips hard against Elsa's, and she kissed him back with the same ardent passion.

Pulling back, she whispered with a small smile, "And I, you."

_******Cause I would die for you on Skyway Avenue,**_

After a rather scandalized huff from Erasmus, Lord Isentrom's voice rung clear with authority, "Hans."

The bastard son nodded as he let go of the heiress, with one final smile, he turned away from her and allowed himself to be taken away to the edge of the cliffs.

_******Where are your guts to fly?**_

Anna and Kristoff walked towards Elsa after Hans was led away. Elsa reached out for Anna's hand for support, and the younger sister squeezed the hand of the elder one to let her know that she was just right there.

Suddenly, Elsa suck in a deep breath, "Anna, how much do you love Kristoff?"

Neither Anna nor Kristoff anticipated the question; nevertheless, Anna answered surely, "Very much."

Elsa looked at Kristoff, before her gaze settled on Anna, "Do you love him enough to follow him to the ends of the world?"

Anna didn't miss a beat, "I do."

_******Soaring through, through the night,**_

Watching Hans walking away from her and being led to the edge of the cliff had given Elsa a chance to choose.

_******And if you take that last step,**_

Elsa's eyes roamed around as she studied the faces of all the people present. There was her father, the Duke of Arendelle; Elsa loved the man dearly, even when it felt like he never truly understood her. Elsa also looked at Erasmus, he was a man in need of somebody to understand him—everybody needed a person like that; and finally, her gaze landed on Kristoff and Anna.

_******I'll follow you,**_

And with that, her decision was finally made.

As Hans turned to look at were one last time, Elsa ran.

_******Leave the ledge and fly,**_

Time seemed to slow down to a halt as Elsa lets go Anna's hand, in that moment, Lord Isenstrom knew what was about to happen; and yet somehow, he had reacted to slow.

Or perhaps that was how it was meant to be…

_******We're finally alive,**_

Everybody but Anna and Kristoff moved to stop her, because from the look that had crossed Elsa's eyes, the couple knew that her decision was finally made, and that _nobody_ would be able to stop her.

**__****Cause if you jump, I will jump too,**

And so as Hans fell, Elsa flew to be with him.

**__****We will fall together from the building's ledge,**

The fear that had previously gripped Hans's heart vanished when he saw the smile on Elsa's face. She looked happy, peaceful, and _free._

_Are we being too selfish?_

_But perhaps, it's alright._

And so, he reached for her as well.

**__****Never looking back at what we've done,**

Elsa's golden tresses escaped from its confines, and danced freely with the wind. Her dark blue eyes shone radiantly, and her face was beautifully sun-kissed.

Closer and closer to the jagged rocks below, to the place where the waves kissed the craggy earth, Hans and Elsa fell, and yet it didn't seem like they were falling at all. It felt as though time was suspended, and that they were flying. Was it truly the end? Because never have they ever felt like they held eternity in palm of their hands.

**__****We'll say it was love,**

One would suppose their story is a tragedy, but their happiness trounces the tragic end. Forevermore, their whispers of love and devotion will echo through time, strong and resonating like their love.

**__****Cause I would die for you on Skyway Avenue,**

Darkness has never been so_ bright._

**__****So what's left to prove?  
We have made it through.**

* * *

I'M SORRY. I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN A LONG TIME. I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON. I HOPE YOU'RE NOT TOO MAD.

Notes:

1. Dukes could be either of two things: a member of nobility, or a monarch ruling over a land. In this case, instead of making him the king of Arendelle a king, I made him the Duke of Arendelle; and instead of the Southern Isles being a distant land, I simply called it the Southern Lands, and it's a small domain within Arendelle that's ruled over by Lord Westergard. Also, one of my headcanons was to make Anna and Elsa's surname Isenstrom, thus the name of their father, Lord Isenstrom.

2. Also, instead of having both of Anna and Elsa's parents as dead, I kept the father alive, and yeah… I just ended up omitting Elsa's ice powers, because it made more sense that way.

that scene with Kristoff :3 I dunno why, but I really liked it.

3. I'm _really _sorry. I kinda rushed this story. I hope you're not too disappointed by this. :P and it's also a bit ooc.. okaaaay. I think I might be losing my touch. I think? Or maybe it's the stress. *huff* (because tumblr just made me rewrite half of this three times. -_-'') (you'll find this in tumblr under the tag #kn1ghtl3y)

4. The first verse of Jack and Jill had poetic ring to it. :3 So I used that as my inspiration.

5. Also, I patterned the story to the song Skyway Avenue by We The Kings

i swear to god i am writing the **__****sequel **to **__****CINDERELLA **this week

**THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!**

**Cheers!**


	3. Moth and The Flame

_Helsa Week, Day 2: Like Fire Like Ice_

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney. _

I don't know where the story, _The Moth and The Flame _originally came from,

so here's to here's to Jose Rizal('s mother), or to whoever wrote it._  
_

* * *

**The Moth and The Flame**

_**"It is true, that what we love can hurt us."**_

_**Like fire,**_

Hans was slowly getting used to being in Arendelle, it would have been impossible for him not to. After all, he was great at _adapting, _it was a skill that he's always had.

It's been a year since his oldest brother stripped him of his title and threw him in a ship bound for Arendelle. The Southern Isles's king decided he would just give his youngest brother to Arendelle as their new, personal slave—or whatever the queen liked to call him.

Unamusingly enough, Hans found that the only thing he had lost by trying to kill Arendelle's queen and princess was his title, and it was easy to get used to not being called a prince anymore; he never really felt like one anyway.

There were people who avoided him like he was the plague, and would look at him as though he was nothing less than a fleck of mud beneath their feet.

Well, Hans was already used to that.

There were also people who jeered and sneered at him, the only thing different now was that he couldn't retort without expecting to be hit for his insolence; and it wasn't hard to get use to that either, he just had learn how to be quick enough.

Hans even found that he enjoyed the freedom he felt. He didn't mind that he got to raise, groom, and ride horses. That was his official duty now, and he _loved _it. He grew up raising Sitron, and truth be told he rather liked horses better than people. Horses weren't annoying, horses didn't complain a lot, horses made a better company, and most of all, horses were more trustworthy than humans.

What the former prince wasn't used to, however, were his newfound _feelings_.

Hans knew that the queen could have just had him executed—nobody would bat an eyelash—but somehow Queen Elsa had _made up _an excuse, saying that _he _was _her _responsibility.

Well, he _was, _in a way; but again, she could have just had him killed, punished, or left in the harsh mountains to die.

But instead she…

**_She spends evenings gazing at the stars with me_.**

It wasn't anything peaceful or romantic, heavens no! More often than not, Hans would find himself cold and shivering, or half frozen—not that he minded all too much, after all he'd end up in that dreadful condition because he had a certain talent for provoking her.

They would always argue; they argued even about the littlest of things, and much to his displeasure, Hans found himself _enjoying_ spending time with the Queen. It was rather disconcerting, actually. Especially since, now, he found that his day would not be completed without her.

Hans watched Elsa from the corner of his eyes as she looked at the stars; they've both been quiet for some time now, after their argument about _chocolates _ended up as a stalemate. Yes, they were arguing about chocolates; most of their arguments were ridiculous.

Hans looked up at the stars, then slowly he closed his eyes.

He wanted to say thank you.

He wanted to thank her for never failing to spend the night with him, and for making him truly happy despite his inner conflicts with himself.

Try as he might the words were stuck in his throat, and he couldn't speak; or rather, he didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure how phrase his words so that it would sound as sincere as he felt, he had grown to be such a great liar he'd sometimes forget he could be sincere.

"Hans?"

"Yes?" he hummed quietly, voice barely above a whisper, he kept his eyes closed.

"What are you thinking about?" Elsa asked with obvious curiosity.

He opened his eyes and looked deep into her dark, ocean blue eyes, "_You_."

She seemed a bit surprise, it was obvious in the slight frown that had furrowed her brows, "Me?"

"Yes," he looked back at the stars again, mentally mapping out the constellations—it was a habit, "You see, I've always wondered_," _despite his words, Hans didn't sound sarcastic, "Why spend such pointless nights with a peasant when you've had a long and tiring day?"

"They're not pointless," she scoffed, and Hans had to admit that Elsa's tone made him look at her, "And admit it," she grinned at him, her smile was a touch devious, "You enjoy my company."

Hans blinked, then instead of smirking, he smiled, "You're right," he looked away as his smile grew, "I do."

An almost identical expression to Hans's flickered on Elsa's face—blink, smile. In an almost affectionate gesture, Queen Elsa placed her gloved hands on top of the former prince's calloused and ungloved ones, there was a ghost of a smile touching her lips and a soft glimmer in her eyes.

Despite himself, Hans flinched, but he didn't pull away from her touch. When he looked back at Elsa, he stared into her eyes intensely. Hans was sure the temperature didn't drop a degree, but despite the gloves that she was wearing, and the fact that her gesture was only meant to be kind—Hans found that the _Snow Queen's _touch burned brighter and warmer than any chaotic inferno.

_**Like ice,**_

Elsa wasn't sure why she had done it.

"Hans?"

After what happened, the entire incident that had happened after her coronation, she was fairly sure that she wanted nothing to do with the traitorous prince; but somehow, she had accepted King Adalsteinn's offer to have his youngest brother serve in her kingdom—and there she was now, sitting under the night sky with the said traitor.

"Yes?"

She tried to avoid him for the first few days, but the more she had tried to banish him at the back of her mind, the more he had resurfaced. When she finally got tired of trying to avoid him, or avoid _thinking _of him, she made time to talk to him; and after that, every time she was free from her queenly duties, she endeavoured to always find time to talk with him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Anna was rather frustrated with Elsa at the beginning, but the younger lady had eventually relented. Kristoff was a great distraction, and Elsa was able to justify her reasons for visiting Hans, even if her reasons sounded mundane and banal at best.

"You."

Elsa didn't really understand why she kept meeting Hans. She was curious, she supposed, curious about what made Hans who he was; and loathe as she was to admit it, she enjoyed verbally sparring with the man.

"_Me?_"

Despite everything that has happened between them in the past, Elsa had managed to reach one conclusion about the former prince—

"Yes. You see, I've always wondered_. _Why spend such pointless nights with a peasant when you've had a long and tiring day?"

A conclusion that, **_The night sky no longer makes sense without him._**

"They're not pointless, and admit it, you enjoy my company."

And perhaps, just a little bit, she hoped that it was the same for him too.

"You're right, I do."

A shadow of a smile crept on her lips as a pleasant feeling washed over her. Somehow, she just _knew _that the former prince was being sincere. Almost instinctively, she reached out to place her hand gently above his.

She felt his sudden jerk, the fierce look in his brown-flecked, green eyes held her gaze captivated. Elsa didn't expect him to, but he did it anyway—he pressed his lips on top of her hand.

She felt an unfamiliar feeling wash over through her as the lingering sensation of Hans's lips against the back of her hand sent a shiver down her spine; a shiver that the freezing _cold_ never could.

_**A fatal attraction,**_

Once there was a moth that had happily frolicked around the the candle, entranced by its captivating and dazzling flame. Mesmerized by the dancing tongue, the moth had come too close, heedless of its mother's warning to stay away. Its wings were singed and it fell, fluttering once and then no more. The moth had gotten burnt by its own disillusion.

In which the former prince and the queen were both drawn to the other like the proverbial moth to the candle, but this story knows nothing of the moth's carelessness. No touch will burn like a ruinous fire, and no one will allow themselves to fall _completely__. _This is a story where our characters understand the pain of wanting, where they allow themselves to desire but never to fall into the temptation of testing the fates.

Hans and Elsa looked away from each other to gaze at the sky above, both quietly basking under the watchful beam of the stars and the moon, with only the heavens to witness their fingers intertwining.

_**A hopeless love.**_

"His name is Robert Blackwell," Elsa suddenly said out of the blue after minutes of silence. It's been almost two years now, and watching the night sky with him has become a daily part of her routine.

"The Duke of Fensworth?" Hans asked, he turned to her with a look of surprise.

Elsa looked down, she bit her lower lip and nodded, "Yes."

"So, you've finally chosen," he broke into a grin, _and _his heart broke into pieces—or perhaps saying that was a little bit over-dramatic, "The council must be having a party."

Elsa laughed softly and nodded, "They seem to be the happiest about this."

"And Anna?" somehow he ended up getting along with Anna; the princess didn't despise him as much as she used to. An occasional _harmless _prank here and there was enough to keep her satisfied, and _at least_ he wasn't in any _mortal _danger.

"She's also happy about it," Elsa shrugged carelessly, "But Anna thinks I should have..."

"Chosen something _crazier_?" Hans's lips curved into a small teasing smile, understanding shone in his eyes.

"Yes," Elsa sighed and laughed resignedly.

Hans chuckled, and yet again they fell into deep silence, both back to watching the stars twinkle and shine.

This time, it was Hans who broke the silence, "Congratulations, I suppose. You've chosen well."

"He _is_ a kind man," Elsa murmured after a moment's hesitation, "_And_ charming," Elsa added quietly, looking at Hans.

"Always was," he drawled, a nostalgic smile formed on his lips.

"But he..." she trailed off and looked away.

_**Isn't you.**_

Or maybe Hans was being too disenchanted that he had imagined her voice ringing through his head.

"Fensworth is an honorable man," Hans told her, there was a hint of pride in his voice, "He was one of the only people I've met who wasn't pretend to like me," a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, "He challenged me when he wanted to, irked me when he pleased, and had my back when I needed him," Hans paused, pondering before he continued, "He's smarter than most, more devious than he admits, and clever beyond doubt," then Hans turned to Elsa with a wistful look in his eyes, and a smirk on his lips, "He's a sort of rake, but he respects women and honors them better than most men would."

"You approve of him," the queen said simply, almost... _accusingly?_

"He's a better man than _me_," Hans whispered quietly, taking her hand and kissing it. _**Funny,** _Hans thought, his lips were still pressed to her knuckles and his eyes never looked away from her, **_I've always, only kissed her hand. _**

_"_Hans," Elsa whispered softly as he pulled away, and their fingers intertwined, "Do you ever regret what you did?" her voice had grown softer, as is she were afraid of asking. For a brief moment, Hans didn't reply, instead he watch as the light shone in her eyes, and the flecks of silver in them danced against the midnight blue—_Like stars, _he thought amusedly.

Hans touched her face gently, and leaned in; Elsa closed her eyes, and he kissed her forehead. When her eyes had opened, he saw that she had anticipated _more, _but he couldn't bring himself to give her anything other than a chaste kiss. He already wanted her _too _much.

"I do regret it, _my queen_," he replied somberly; his eyes were closed, and their foreheads were touching, "Yes," he added almost absentmindedly; then opening his eyes and looking deep into hers, his lips curved into a rueful smile, "I am regretful, Elsa.

"I regret, but only for the _stars._"

* * *

HELLO ELECTRICITY, AND HELLO INTERNET.

Typhoon just passed by our country and left us without electricity for most of the day.

SO HERE'S DAY 2! :3

parumpumpum~ whaddya think?

Day 3's gonna be late, sadly, because I didn't get a time to write. :P

**Thanks for reading!**

**Hope you enjoyed. :3**

**Cheers!**


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